Earth and Heaven
by Scorp Y Lee
Summary: Fit in the timeline between Erik left the opera through a secret tunnel and the last scene of the movie - a rose before Christine's tombstone.
1. Chapter 1 Incipit

**Chapter 1**

 **Incipit**

That night, as usual, I went out when the darkness fell. I went to the city centre, because there are always preys on the small lanes, at the end, in the dark. Expectedly, my hunt went quite well, smoothly, and quickly. I finished at a very early hour, but I decided to wander around before heading back home.

When I was about to leave, I smelt a strong hint of blood. This one was not like what people usually had. This one did not hide itself. It spread out in to the air. So curiously, I followed the sense. And then, I saw him. I understood where the smell came from. He curled on his right side, against the wall, covered with blood. White shirt turned almost all red. He must have been hunted and ran down to this place, for I saw a gunshot on his right abdomen and a blood track, stretching out into the darkness. There was no sign of his enemies. Well, apparently, he made the dodge successfully, but on the expense of what, I doubted, and I hardly approved.

His mouth was bloodless, his face was pale like death. But I knew he was still alive for I sensed a smell of life. But it was fading. Blood running in his vein has already slowed down. The heartbeat was weak, and sounded like it would not have another one. Alas, life, so fragile, so vulnerable, that can be broken like a snap of a twig. It was not quite common for me to see a life fading, not under my hand.

Saving lives, same as taking lives, has always been my mission. I guessed this must be my pride and ego. I can never see a life being taken when I was not the one who took it. Consequently, I cut my wrist with my fingernail and split my blood on his wound. Then, I bit my lips and sent my blood into his mouth. But he did not wake up immediately. I thought this must because he lost so much of them. So I had no choice but to take him back home. I cared for my work, after all. When I picked him up and walked into the moonlight, I saw his right face was a bit deformed. Maybe it was the result of a battle. Quite scary, I should say.

Put him on the floor, I expected him to be awaken in maybe just a couple of hours. I hoped it would be before the dawn.

As expected, he woke up very soon. But he was still very weak. I doubted if he was able to sit up. I crouched before him and examined him carefully. I had to say, unfortunately, my blood kept him alive, though, it was only temporary. Because of his huge amount of blood-losing, I bet he would not survive the week. Bullet was still in him. Even though he would not die of blood lose, he would die of infection.

It took him quite a while to focus his eyes. Then I heard him asking for water. Well, how would I know? I don't drink, water. I don't even have a cup. Looking around the room, I tried to find something. Any container would do. My eyes located on the brush pot. Well, not that I was willing to, I did not seem to have a choice. So I went to clear the pot and fetch him some water.

He seemed to get back some of his strength after a while. He uttered some long sentences, some thanks sort of thing. I don't really remember for my mind was filled with thought of my experiment. Human normally can put up with certain amount of my blood. But, once exceeded the threshold, they all ended up dead. Now with another experiment object before me, I definitely would not miss my chance. Next step was to lure him into it.

He looked extremely painful for he twisted his face frequently. I pointed out the truth that his days were numbered, and added that I can help him. Fear of death, human's fatal weakness. Control it, and you control them. As I expected, he consented. So I cut my wrist and dropped blood into his mouth. I shall see the result in no time.

Unexpectedly, he did not blow off like everyone else did. His face started to get back its colour, and his wound started to heal. I dug out of the bullet before it completely healed. This experiment was such a success, for some reasons I did not know. Not yet. Perhaps it was his low blood level. I would further investigate it. But now, a new product I created was before my eyes! I was overjoyed. Oh, I had so much questions. So much to do. What is he? Is he still human? Half vampire half human? A new species at last? What is he capable of?

He sat up, looked astonished, and also intact. Well, except his right face. It was a bit… Well, he must be born that way. Otherwise, why my blood did not work? It intrigued me to get to know him. It was not so often for me to meet a man like this. Blood on his shirt has not dry yet, so I dipped on it with my finger and put it in my mouth.

Then his past flashed before my eyes. The gun shot, by policemen. He lived, by the lake? There was a girl, a ring, another guy. Oh, sad story. Chandelier, opera show, graveyard, rooftop…. His entangled love story with the girl. He, built the Opera Garnier? That was something. Hunted again… for…. That was an awesome palace. Good maze of mirror, but would not work on me. Circus troupe. This guy certainly has been to many places. And, a poor childhood….

That was his past that I have read. I had to admit, he was a bit special. Not that he was as special as me. Just a bit different from normal people. Got some talents. Good knowledge and experience. That would make him exceed most of people. Plus his face. How many people in the world were born with one half good looking and the other half distorted? Counting all in history, maybe a dozen, or even less. I had never seen one in my entire life, and that was over eighteen centuries. From what I saw, I knew that he cannot go back to where he used to live. It would be a perfect excuse for to him stay with me from now on.

I looked at him, cannot hide my excitement. I was like an artist looking at a masterpiece made by his own hands. And he was so confused and startled when I tasted his blood. I pretended nothing happened and it was just one of my little odd hobby. It was best not to let him know that I already knew everything about him. I would rather not put him in a defensive mode. "Can you stand?" I asked while I stood up myself. He nodded and then got up from the floor.

There was blood on the floor, and he looked very sorry about it. Before he said anything, I told him that it was okay, and it would be great if he can clean himself up and get changed. I went to my bedroom and fetched him some clothes to change. He looked the same size as I, so I figured they would fit him.

While he was in the bathroom, I cleaned the floor, threw his clothes out. I just tried to get rid of as much distraction as possible. It had human blood on it, after all. I was pretty sure I would be okay around him, for I was not interested in sucking my own blood at all. I wondered what to tell him if he was to ask, about the healing, or about me. I thought it would be wise that I make my home look more human. So I figured to get some human food. All stores were closed at that hour. I broke into one and fetched as many foods as possible. Of course, as well as daily necessity. I did not really know what human normally eat or use, so I basically took each from the shelf.

When I got back, less than five minutes past. He was still in the bathroom. So I put all stuff in the kitchen, in which there was only one big box. I dragged the box to my bedroom, pretending that the kitchen was my storing room, then locked my bedroom. Then I went on sitting in the drawing room, pretending I was reading a book while waiting for him.

In about another five minutes, he walked into the drawing room, with water dripping from his hair. My clothes really suited him. He looked refreshed. "There are foods in the kitchen. Make yourself at home. The door next to you." In no time, he came back with… whatever that was eatable. Then I realised I only had one chair in the flat, so I gave it to him. I never had any guest after all. He muttered a thank you with a mouthful food.

I can tell that he had many questions, and he has not yet asked any because he was just behaving politely. I thought it was the time to resolve his questions. "I found you in an alley. I assumed you were hunted down. I saw a very long blood trace. So what's your story?"

He looked like that he did not want to talk about it. But out of courtesy, he told me part of his story. Much less than what I already knew, but I acted like that I accepted what he said, and did not chase more.

I told him my name, and asked for his. "Érik."

"So, Érik, you can stay with me from now on. Since you can no longer live in your old house."

"I am very grateful for everything you did for me, but…"

"No but. You have my blood in your vein, I believe it is the best for both of us that you stay here."

It was very hard for him to accept this. For a man who was always on his own. But it was true that he did not have a place to stay. To me, it was a perfect time to tame him.

He accepted it with a nod, but added that it was only temporary, and he would go on finding a new place after the incident got past. No, Érik, you belong to me now, forever.

"Speak of your blood, why did it heal me so fast?"

I knew he would ask. I have been thinking about a response. "You see, Érik, my blood is special. It has a strong self-recovering ability." I cut my forearm with a knife and showed him the whole process of self-healing. "There are always people who are talented. I am special. So are you." He gave a half-surprised half-expected look. I gestured him to give a try himself. I was as curious as he was, and more eager to know what would happen.

He hesitated a bit before he decided to find it out. I watched him cutting himself, bleeding, then healing, at a lower rate, though. His lifted eyebrows and widened eyes told me that he was half-astonished half-amazed by what he could do, and even a bit happy about it. Then he touched his right face. I told him that it still did not look normal, and asked him whether it was from birth, and he said yes. I said I did not have a mirror at home so that he would not be able to see it himself, but as far as I was concerned, it was as it had been. Disappointment leaked out from his lowered eyes. I said my blood can only restore a body to its original place, and I was totally okay with him. However, my words did not work very well on cheering him up. I figured it was best to leave him alone since he just had a long night. So I made an excuse that I needed to get him a mattress for sleep, then left the flat.

I wandered on the street, and just before dawn, I took back a mattress and a set of bedding. When I got home, I saw Érik sitting on the floor, back against the wall with his eyes shut. He was soaked in grief. He heard me, then he opened his eyes and looked at me. For a moment, I saw the deepest sorrow in the world, in my eighteen centuries of life. Alas, such a broken man.

I said my flat was really small and he can stay in the kitchen since I did not cook, and there was only storage. He only gave me an acquiescence. He emitted melancholy radiance that I thought only time can be his remedy. For how long I did not know, for more than eighteen centuries past and I had not yet fully recovered from it. All I knew that it would fade away, and at the end, it would become a smoke, a scent, a distant dream, a state of mind that you finally got used to live in.

He took over the mattress and dragged it into the kitchen. I told him that I worked at night, it was about my bedtime, and it was best for me to get good rest during the day. He wished me a sound sleep, and I greeted him a good day.


	2. Chapter 2 His Home

**Chapter 2**

 **His home**

I got up at the dusk and found Érik was sleeping. I wondered if that was his usual timetable or he was just worn out. I usually did some reading at this hour, but at that moment, I found it more interesting reading him. Just this time, from his surface to the deepest.

He buried his right face in the pillow as if in hide of itself. His right hand curled up besides his eyes, and left arm covered himself as much as possible. I cannot sympathise with his feeling as the past eighteen centuries had consumed me, and for most of days, I felt nothing. I did not know how great his sorrow was. I only saw his face masked with anguish, through his knitted eye brow, trembled lashes and twitched mouth. He must be reliving the night before.

I did not know how long I stood there. He woke up and felt my existence for he turned to me. "Evening." I greeted, pretending I was just checking upon him. "Evening." He sat up, and looked out of the window. It was already dark. I told him that I needed to go to work, and asked him if he wanted to go outside. He shook his head and rubbed his forehead with his palm. Then I said that he was welcomed to use anything in my home, including every book in the drawing room, except my bedroom which was carefully locked. Then I left him.

I knew I cannot go home right after my hunting because I needed to convince Érik that I did had a job. So I decided to visit his old home, considering it as a venture as well as another way to get to know him.

Followed what I saw from his past, I found the secret pass. It was a long, narrow paved path, totally dark from just a few step away from the entrance because moonlight cannot get through. Approaching to the end of the path, I saw a dim light coming through. I assumed there were policemen guarding the place. Hid myself in the dark, I did an astute observation – two men, one near the exit, the other at the far end. Looked like a feast to me. Without striking a blow, I took them down. A little snack as the bonus. I then cut off their heads, put them on the floor, and wrote a warning with their blood to tell police or anyone to stay away from this place.

I looked around, and found that the place was different from what I knew. It was turned upside down. Some statutes fell on the floor and broke into pieces, as well as some candlesticks. I relit all the candles that left to make it closer to what it was supposed to be. Next to smashed mirrors, there was a workstation, but workpieces were burnt, and only debris were left. I recalled that Érik burnt it himself last night. Pens, ink, papers and lots of paintings were scattered everywhere. I picked up those from the floor, looked at them one by one before putting them back on the table.

The organ was smashed as well, apparently out of mob hands. Music sheets were everywhere as well. Some even floated on the lake. I picked all of them up, even those on the lake, then spread out to dry them. Bedroom was the only place that almost kept its original face, except there were traces that it had been searched. To my surprise that they did not take his sword. I waved it, just tried to kill some time. I did not really know how to use it because I never needed it.

After I took my tour around the place, I went back to put his music sheets in order and read through them carefully. If it was not for the broken organ, I might have played a bit. It was such a pity as to me the music was such a masterpiece.

One hour before dawn, I went back home, and found Érik reading Byron. I did not understand why he chose it for it certainly did no help in getting him out of pain, but even worsen it I should say. But I did not say anything. I put the chair that I just shoplifted before him and asked him about his night. He waved the book whose only a couple of pages left reading and said he spent most of the night on it. And he admired my collection. I thanked him and added that it was how I spent most of my time. I asked him whether he wanted to go back to his previous place just to get back some of his stuff, like his clothes. He said he thought it would be better to just wait for a couple of days. I agreed. Then he asked to help me with breakfast, but I told him that I already dined at my workplace, and I needed to rest.

For the following couple of days, I went back to his home every night just to study his music. They were more appealing to me than those books I had at home of which I had already memorised every word. After repeat reading, I engraved every single note on my mind.

The police were quite handful. They kept coming back, even though I did my warning every night. They were too annoying so I ignored them, just regarded them as a free lunch. They even sent more men, but only found them as dead as their predecessors. On the Friday night, they finally stopped. I reckoned I scared them away at last.

That night, Érik told me that he wanted to go back to his old place for he figured less police resources were to be placed during weekend. I said of course, and I was more than happy to go with him. He did not want to bother me at first, but I persuaded him that he was going to need a helping hand with loads of stuff, and I was rather curious.


	3. Chapter 3 Things sort out

The following evening, I excused myself a couple of hours from Érik before we set off to his home. I needed time to clean the bloody warning, and destroyed every mirror he had. I would not put myself at risk.

When everyone was sound in sleep, we went off on our journey. I followed him all the way to the entrance of that secret pass, with which I was already so familiar. He went ahead of me. I did not see any light when we closed to the end. I acknowledged it as a sign that there was no police that night either.

I was just about to ask him what to do next, light suddenly filled in. He was near the stairs, holding a torch. I did not notice when and how he got there. He moved so silently, just like me. He passed me another one, and said he thought we should not lit up candles. I agreed.

He looked extremely calm in face of his home being turned upside down. Debris on the floor, clinking with every step we took. I supposed this was as he expected. When he passed the workstation, his calm face dimmed at a glance of paintings, emitting a sense of melancholy that can suffocate every breathing creature. Just one quick glance, he did not give it a second look, but he fell back to the exact mood in which I found him sitting on my floor.

He touched the keys when he saw the smashed organ, and slightly shook his head. Those music sheets were put on it, and he certainly noticed that it was trimmed by someone. He opened it and started reading, but stopped in the middle and set a fire on it. Ignored the room where a human model was placed, he went straight to the bedroom. I assumed he was just packing up his stuff, so I did not follow.

I watched the staves consumed by fire, notes transformed and then vanished, white paper turned into yellow and then black. Blazing fire, the angelic singing of an unprecedented collection, the epic echoing of a poetic perfection, the lyric humming of an ultimate resurrection. I felt nothing watching it being destroyed, but those notes popped into my head, like moving pictures, but also like a flowing music. I believed we were the only two people in the world who would ever know that music. The last sparkle burnt out, leaving a pile of black ashes. With a blow of a wind, they spread out into the air, then fell on to the ground. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Then I realised he has been away for quite a while. I found him in the bedroom, sword on his waist, and a packed suitcase at his feet. He stood before a monkey-shaped music box, like a statute. With right side faced me, his face flickered in the torchlight. Shadow lines swam on it that made it even more intolerable. A mask lied in front of the music box. He lowered his head, staring at it, and the whole room was buried in the endless sorrow in his eyes. He was so soaked into it that he did not notice me.

"Érik." I waited a while before I called upon him. My voice dragged him back to reality. He turned to look at me. "Let us go back." He picked up the suitcase, but did not touch the mask nor the music box. He gave a final glance at them at the door, then we left.

We left through the same secret path as we entered. He led the way again, just this time, we had the torches. Just when we were close to the exit, we found out that it was blocked. We were surrounded by a police troupe.

Érik stopped, so did I. At a moment, nobody moved, and everyone held their breath. I heard the wind howling through the tunnel, leaves rustling on the branches. Shadow swayed under the silver moonlight.

Érik dropped his suitcase slowly. "Give me your torch." I heard him whispering. I passed the torch to him.

Suddenly, he threw our torches onto the police. "Run!"

I turned around and fled, in a speed that I was sure he can follow. I heard men's screaming. Others were trying to put off the fire on their fellow colleagues as well as those at the exit. I was pretty sure they were able to make through and chase behind us very soon.

I stopped when I saw light at the other end. Érik bumped into me. I covered his mouth with my hand and hushed him. "Police."

"What do we do?" He asked while drawing out of his sword. I pressed on his hand, "No, they will see us."

The first police troupe were approaching. Their steps were echoing through the tunnel.

"We have to get out, or we will die here, even though we are self-healing. You stay here, get your sword ready. Came out as quick as possible when you see or hear the signal. It will be very clear." I gave a tap on the back of his hand.

I lowered my body to the waist height of an average person, and threw myself to the person at the exit at my maximum speed. Both of us fell on the ground. I rolled him over me, and threw him at a man on my right side, targeted on the torch. Then both of them caught fire. Screaming roared. I picked up the torch he dropped and poked it to the man who was approaching me.

Érik rushed out and took down a man behind me while I was still on the ground. He passed that man's sword to me, but I had no idea how to use it. Damn it. The last time I touched a sword was a couple of days ago, in his bedroom, and that was the only time I ever touched one. I should have practiced more. If only I knew this would come.

The first group caught up. There were like more than two dozens of them. But they were too afraid of harming their colleagues, they dared not to use their pistols. They put away guns, and drew out their sword. Do you think sword cause less harm? Let me tell you, not necessarily. Using their fear, turning their strength to weakness, that was how I always won.

It was really hard for me to fight like a human. Let alone with a weapon that was not meant for me. Érik, on the other hand, was quite good at it. I quit the sword. It did not help. But it was more because I was treated to a dead end by two men. There was no way to go. I thought I might be more useful in causing chaos. I threw the sword at them, which startled them and bought me a little time. I jumped behind the desk and turned it over. Candles fell upon him. He caught fire again. Silly police, you should never have lit up the candles.

But what I failed to notice was that a shape was approaching me from my side. When I caught him at the corner of my eyes, it was too late. I felt a stabbing pain in stomach. I looked down and saw a sword penetrating through my body. I was so furious. I was on the edge of an outburst, of both my mood and my nature. I cannot hold it anymore. My teeth started sharpening. Blood, oh blood, it filled the air, and I was surrounded. More blood was coming in every millisecond. It flooded through my nose into my head, then my head was taken over. I knew my pupil was diluting for the world was changing.

I turned around, feeling the sword stirring in me, and a terrified face appeared before my eyes. I grabbed his neck. He was shaking as hell; his hands were still on the sword and rather firmly though. He must be so terrified that he forgot how to think and how to move. I pulled his hands off so that I can finally completely turned to face him. He eyes were wide open, so was his mouth. The scream he was trying to make was blocked in his threat with only a ray of sound squeezed out. I pulled his neck to my mouth. Then I felt a stream of fresh blood flowing down to my threat, sweet intoxication.

I pushed him away, longed for another one. I pushed the sword out of my body. There were others standing close, all looked like their gall were scared out of their body. I was on fire. Then all I can remember was the mass slaughter. It did not take me long for it was a thrill of kill, rather a lust for blood. In my eyes, every living creature was my prey. They all looked the same, smelt the same to me.

Only a single breath left. I heard only a single heartbeat, strong, fast but not in disorder, behind me. Then a soft whisper came from the same direction, calling my name. I turned around and saw a dark shape was a couple of meters away from me. When I getting closer to him step by step, he raised his sword and pointed at me, "Dracula! Stop! Or I will kill you, I swear!" How did he know my name? It didn't matter.

"Oh, you won't. You can't. I can give you…" Wait. I smelt a sense of familiarity, my own blood. My sanity started coming back to me. The image before me became clearer and clearer.

Then I saw Érik standing before me, covered with blood, enemies' or his, alerted and guarded. "I, I'm sorry." I retreated a step and gestured him to put down the sword, "Érik, I didn't mean to harm you. You are in no danger."

"Oh, well. I don't think so!"

I threw myself at the wall like a wounded animal. I was so exhausted. I had not been in such a furious state for centuries. I can hardly recall what was it the last time. During Roman Empire time? Perhaps. I leaned against the wall, one hand on the knee just to hold myself up, "I said I'm sorry. Érik, please… Would… would you kindly burn every single one of them for me please? I don't want them to turn into vampires."

"So, you are a vampire. Am I a vampire, too? Do you want to turn me into one?" His anger did not become any less, but he followed my instructions.

"No, you are not. You have my blood, and you have human blood. I don't know what are you but you are not a vampire. And I don't want to turn you into one. I never will, unless you ask me to." I finally got back my strength and stood up straight, then I saw Érik approaching me, pointing the torch toward me. "Érik, what are you doing?" My back was against the wall, I had nowhere to go.

"You almost killed me! How do I know I am safe around you?! This will kill you, right? You vampires are afraid of fire, sun, silver, things that shine. Because you are dark. The opposite is fatal to you."

"Érik, put that torch away. You don't understand. I cannot be killed. I just simply cannot die."

"What?" He was stupefied. And I used that one second of his negligence, seized his wrist and threw the torch.

"Érik, I will never harm you. I was stabbed. I was penetrated by a sword. And it unleashed the monster inside of me."

"You are the monster!"

"So are you!" I raised my voice. I can hear my own anger. I grabbed his threat and pressed him onto the wall. I stared at his eyes, even though I cannot see myself in them, I knew my eyes must be blazing with rage. "Even before I saved you!"

I saw astonishment within his eyes. "You think I don't know?! You think that I didn't do any research on you in the past few days?!" His eyes clouded with anguish. "You know what, Érik. I was deprived of a right to death. There is no way out for me. No salvation. No freedom. No end. I am damned for all time. Listen, Érik. There are people who are more miserable than you. So don't you ever call me a monster again!"

I pushed him to the wall like I wanted to squeeze him into it before I let go of him. He coughed, and finally caught his breath. He was still upset, but not as angry as he wanted to kill me. "Are we all good? I think we'd better get out of here." I asked, looking at the blazing fire that almost became a sea.

He nodded, "Let's go upstairs."

We crossed the lake, and I followed Érik around the cellar. It was a labyrinth. I lost count of how many turns we made, and we finally made our way out to a dressing room - Christine Daaé's dressing room. It was a mess. Cosmetics, candles, vases and flowers were scattered on the floor. Flowers were withered. Some were even stepped on and ravaged. Cracks on the mirror must be caused by collisions.

There was no light, no police, no one. Moonlight shone through windows, and scattered in the house. Light, dark, silver and black. Crossed the backstage, there we were at the stage. Things were exactly as I saw in Érik's memory, except the floor were closed up. The stage remained its decorations as in Don Juan Triumphant. Beams fell from the ceiling. A shattered chandelier was in the middle of the house. Glasses were everywhere. Trails of fire climbed on the wall, through the chairs, consumed the curtains.

"Do you want to go up there?" Érik saw me looking around the place out of curiosity, and asked.

"Hmm? Sure." I followed him, climbed to the second floor, and entered into a private box. He stepped behind a column, raised his fist above his head and tapped with his knuckles, then the bricks moved and an entry showed up. He gestured me to go in there with him. I was amazed by the following scene – there was a room inside the column for two people. We sat down against the wall. From a brick crack, I can see the stage rather clearly.

Érik gazed ahead. I did not know what he was looking at, perhaps memory. "I used to come up here, watch the performance. More like listening. I asked them to save this box to me and me alone, so that I can watch the show without being noticed." He hid himself completely in darkness, and I could not see his face.

"Every night?" I asked. He turned his face to look at me. Our eyes collided.

"Almost. I asked them not to sell this box so that I can come over here whenever I want." He went back to his original place.

"Where did you get the money?" Private box must be expensive, I supposed.

"Oh, I didn't pay."

"Ahh?" I found it quite interesting and amusing. It must be because of the joy of my voice, he laughed, though very slightly and quickly, "I told them I was a ghost, and demanded them. If they fail, I gave them a lesson. It surely scared the hell out of them."

"Wow. That was clever. So they believed there was a ghost?"

"Yeah, sure. I thought you did research on me?"

"Yeah, well… I did. I just didn't know what they used to think of you. You ceased to be a ghost to them, didn't you?"

"Yeah, that's true." He leaned his head against the wall; fingers rubbed his knee. "I also managed to let them pay me twenty-thousand francs every month. Did you know that?" He laughed again, with a joking attitude in his voice.

"So that was you. I should have thought of it." I laughed together, "That was really awesome. I admire you, you know?"

He was flattered. "Why? Because I blackmailed them?" He turned around his upper body, right arm on his raised right knee, left shoulder against the wall. He looked like a statute, categorically stunning and magnificent.

"Partially." I found it rather amusing, and smiled at him.

"And?" He waited, looking curiously.

I carefully weighed my words before I spoke up. "Well… you are clever. You know tricks. You know people. You know the art of fencing. You compose."

"Wait. So it was you."

"I what?" I was confused.

"It was you who ordered my music sheet. It was supposed to be on the shelf. And some pages were soaked into water. You had been to my house?!" He questioned me.

"I'm sorry, Érik. I really am." I turned around and faced him. Looked into his eyes, I tried to show every sincerity I had. "I found out what happened to you. I was curious. So I came here one night. There was no one here. So I followed the trace. You know the police left quite a lot. Some music sheets were floating on the lake, so I picked them up, dried them and put them back to order. That's it. I swear. I didn't touch anything else." I had to make up a story. I hoped I made it sound convincing.

"Yeah, I know. It was the police. They searched it."

"I should have told you."

"Yes, you should."

"I couldn't believe you live underground. Your house is like a palace, and there is a lake in it."

"Not anymore."

"No…. But you can always stay at my place, though it is shitty."

"It is. How could… You must have lived for centuries, I mean. You can't afford a better place?"

"Well… It hardly gets any attention, which makes it easier for me to hide."

"Do you think they are still after us?"

"I suppose so. We killed two dozens of them."

"You killed two dozens of them."

I gave him a bitter look. And he even smiled. "By the way, how old are you? If you don't mind."

"As a vampire? 1889."

"That was… wow."

"Yeah." I smiled rather bitterly.

"Where did you come from?" He seemed very interested in me, ever since he knew my secret.

"I was born in Kerioth, in southern Judaea."

He stunned, "Are you….?"

"Yes."

"Why did you….?"

"Please don't"

"Okay. Pardon me." He leaned back again. It looked like he needed time to digest the information.

"That's alright. Where are you from?" I asked.

"Rouen."

"So you are local?"

"You can say that. How did you end up here?"

"Oh. I have stayed here and there. I moved around a lot. You know, not to make too much a fuss."

"You seek for blood every night? Like our daily meal?"

"Not really. I actually can survive for a long long time without taking in new blood. Sometimes, blood for me is more like a desire."

"Every human you bite would turn into a vampire?"

"I hold the card. It' on me."

"But by the lake you asked me to…."

"I wasn't me back then. I cannot remember what I did. Are you scared of me?"

"I feel alright now." He shrugged, totally at ease.

"I can't believe you are a night person. You seemed quite get used to my timetable."

"Well…. I love night. It's quiet. People are more emotional at night, which suits my composing. I suppose for vampires it's because sun is fatal."

"That's true. Vampire is nocturnal. But I'm more like allergic to sunlight. It makes me uncomfortable but it does not kill me. I'm totally okay with going out in rainy days or cloudy days."

"What do you mean you can't die? Others can die, can't they?"

"They can. It's just me."

"Why?"

"LORD forbids it."

"Oh…" He sighed.

"I'm the first one. Patient zero, you can call it."

"What about me? Can I be killed? Will I die?"

"I really don't know."

"There must be others like me. I mean, did you save people before?"

"Well…. Yes, I did. But you are the only one who survived. I don't know why. I guess it was because your blood level was extremely low. Or it was because your blood does not reject mine. I don't know whether you can be killed or not. But I think you will age, just rather slowly."

He stayed in silence, and I made no sound either. I did not know what he was thinking, nor what he felt. I threw myself to the corner, and tried to recall the moment I found out what I had become. Thrill of a reborn, an immortality, then became a despair of no end. Somehow I was jealous of him. There would always be an end waiting for him. Even though he may not know when and where, the end would always give him an expectation. My life, from my way of seeing it, has always been an endless line. No matter how far I walked, the view never changed. I cannot stop, cannot turn, but to keep walking, even though I know it clearly that there was nothing waiting for me. A life without an expectation does not worth living, but it is a paradox to me.

I looked to his direction. His face hid in the dark, only a ray of weak light that crept through the gap shone upon his left face. There was no expression, like a Renaissance statute. How could he be so flawlessly good-looking. I cannot take my eyes off him. No one feature made him so handsome, but come together, there was this perfection. Moonlight outlined his face, silvering borderlines. His bone structure was fair, firm and manly. I knew my heart would pause if I had one. Lighter around the corner of his eye, and gradually united with the dark background. His strong arched brows delineated his cavernous eyes. The moonlight fell at the top of his long, thick eyelashes and made them glisten so that from my angle, they looked almost white. They curled up gently, and each one of them had their own purpose, no more no less. When he blinked, they were the low tide waves that glided through the beach; took none left none yet made me want to chase. His emerald eyes added a stroke of sexiness on him, but I was sure they would be beautiful in any shade. From them came all the tenderness in the world. His mouth closed firmly. A deep curve made the time stop. The corner of his mouth filled in the shape of my eyes, and made me want to feel his lips moving in a kiss.

I moved my head closer to his, silently, and left a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. He was stunned. He turned his head slightly towards mine. His lips were parted, like he wanted to say something. But I silenced the words with my mouth. Now I knew what his lips tasted like – sweetness and softness. The feel of them sent my mind into a sensual state of intoxication. I leaned in and pressed myself closer to him. His nose brushed over mine. Warm exhales caressed my face. His very smell was flooding my senses. His lips pulled apart and took shaky, shallow breaths. So did I, and our breaths mingled. I opened my eyes when he drew himself from me. He looked at me, then looked away quickly. "Dracula." He whispered slowly and gently. "Yes?" My heart fluttered at his voice. Never before has my name ever felt so wonderful a one.

"We must go now. The fire has already gotten to the stage." I glanced at the stage. It was. We left the Opera House. No one talked on the way home.

When I was about to open the door to my bedroom, I felt a gaze from behind. I looked behind and saw him standing half in his room half in the hallway. I turned around but did not say anything, for he seemed to speak. The world was silent, and time was still. I thought I heard the sound of my heart beat. I stepped slowly towards him, intended to break the silence. His eyes travelled on my face. My eyes laid upon his moving lips. Then I heard a gentle whisper, "Sleep well." He slipped into his room and closed the door.


	4. Chapter 4 Wedding Night

**Chapter 4**

 **Wedding Night**

When I got up that evening, there was no sign of Érik. I panicked and was very upset. I did not know if I scared him away with that kiss. I wanted to go looking for him, but I could not think of a word to say if I managed. Most importantly, I had no idea where to find him. I could use my sharp senses and search the entire world, that's for sure. But how can I be certain that he wanted to be found? But how can I know if I do not go and find him? I paced in the room. I can't think straight. My mind mingled. The two thoughts almost tore me apart. After a struggle, I finally made up my mind to go looking for him. There must be police out there searching for him. He was in great danger.

I had no clue where he would be, so I started with the opera house - the only place I knew about him. It was burnt over, deserted in desolation. Wind sighed, through the broken windows, echoing in the hollow house. It expressed the feeling for me. When I was about to enter the gate, I saw a piece of newspaper sticked on the column by the wind. It said a wedding between Christine Daaé and Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. Suddenly I knew where has Érik gone. I was just hoping that he was still there.

It said a small church past the North Station. There was no train at that hour. I ran on the rooftops so that I can cut the straight line. Of course the wedding was over. Telling by the petals, it was a wonderful, happy wedding.

I searched every corner of the church, but did not find Érik. Standing on the rooftop, I was thinking, what could he be if he was going to watch the wedding from a place that no one would notice him. Perhaps in the woods near.

I saw him from afar. He was sitting against a tree, back to the church. He did not notice me, and I did not go any further. I could not see his face from the distance. Moonlight poured above him, through the long thin leaves. Shadows and silver mingled on his cloak. I did not know how long has he been here, whether he had a sleep today at all. I did not know what he was thinking, nor what he was feeling. I wished I could read his mind so that I would know how to comfort him. But I can do none of the above. I was not an expert in love, nor a good model. My heart had not trembled for almost nineteen centuries, until last night.

I did not know what to do but give him space and time. I did not want to let him go, but I wished not to hold him too tight. I hid myself in the woods and watched him from behind, - his slightly lowered head that I was so eager to hold up in my hands; his messy hair that I imagined running through my fingers; his arched knees that I wanted to caress. The hem of his cloak, swung in the wind, and brushed over my heart. I knew why he was here. I wanted him to know that there were others who keenly appreciate his talents. How can I let him know? Perhaps I can bring music back to his life.

I was so lost in the sight of him, and I did not notice that time flied. He stood up and walked down the hill. I followed him for I worried if I did not, police would. He was gloomy and in deep frustration. When he finally turned into the alley where I lived, the night started fading and the light started taking over the world. It occurred to me that I was thinking of getting him a piano to help him walk out of the melancholy. I managed to get in a piano before he walked up the stairs. I broke the window in my bedroom, but it was just a tiny expense.

I heard his steps, and sat down at the door. He climbed up the stairs and stopped when he saw me. A ray of guilt glided over his face. His mouth opened and closed again. I stood up, "I know where you've been. I don't mind." His deep gaze went right through my eyes, down to my inner core. No one talked and no one moved for a while. Then he said, "Come, let's go inside. Sun is getting out."

He saw the piano once he got inside. I put it in the drawing room, opposite to the door. He looked at me surprisedly. I did not know what to say, just wished he could get my meaning. He gave the piano another glance, before he walked up to me and paid me all the attention.

He was getting closer and closer. "Érik, I…" "Shhh…" I felt a warm breath coming toward me. Next second came a tap on my lips. Then he drew back. His eyes searched mine. Was there a soul within me to be found? I pulled him to me, our tongues entwined. I felt my hands in his hair. They tumbled as I released it. His scent sent me into a heady trance, on that would not end until our bodies became one. His hand laid upon my loin. One touch and it was all over. A shock of electricity ran through my skin, and hormones shut down my higher brain.

I escaped myself from him, and slammed him on the wall, took off his cloak, his suit. Suddenly he grabbed me by the neck and pushed me into his room. It was hurtful and it turned me on even more. He undressed my shirt, pressed me on the chest against the wall.

I knew I can move if I used my ability, but my desire told me to stand still. Kisses on my neck drove me to tip my head and expose more. His mouth went down inch by inch, slowly, brushing over my skin and burning. His hands were on my body, always just a little lower than the kisses. I felt my back arching in anticipation, knowing where his fingers would soon reach. My head rocked back against the wall as he did. A moan escaped from my throat. He pulled off my trousers, and threw me onto the mattress. My burning stomach touched the coldness, giving me a sudden inhale.

Then a firm hand covered my shoulder, a warm body wrapped my back, and a wet tongue outlined my spine. I was so nervous I had never imagined I could be. There was something about him that lighted me up from within. He melted my confidence to nothing. He broke the wall and smashed my pride, my ego into pieces. Being touched by him was like my heart being mended even though I had no clue it was broken.

I tasted his fingers in my mouth. Then he drew back and grabbed my hip. I felt his finger went inside, intensifying every nerve, every muscle of mine. "Relax." A low whisper blew a breath into my ear. I pulled the pillow under me and buried my face in it. Shut down the visual senses made my tactile senses even more sensitive.

Then he was inside, entirely. A throbbing pain stabbed right into my heart. I pressed my face deeper inside the pillow, wishing to bury my scream inside it. But he knew, for his hands covered on mine when I firmly grabbed the pillow. He gently rubbed the back of my hand with his palm. He did not move but embraced me inside of him. He pulled my hair away from my ear and kissed it. I turned my head to kiss him. Our skin moved softly together, like the finest of silk. He changed my breathing with every thrust. He swallowed my breaths, my moans. His arms wrapped around my chest and in one gentle pull our skin touched. Our bodies fit together as if we were made just for this, to fall into one another, to feel this natural rhythm.

I rubbed the linen sheet along with his movement. The discomfort down there added even more joy. Suddenly, a hand covered it up, and a joyful moan came out of my throat before I even realised. An infusion of thrill brewed within my body. It grew stronger and stronger as the time passed by. With the deepest hottest sweetness, I was on my way to the ultimate convulsion. He did too, just inside of me.

He gave me a soft kiss, then he rolled over upon the mattress, and held me in his arms. I turned around to face him. His right face faced up, and he looked so beautiful. My fingers brushed over his scar. I asked him whether it hurt. He shook his head slightly, and he never looked away from my eyes. I held myself up and kissed it, feeling the furrows on my lips. How could I never kiss it before? Then I put my forehead against his, and told him to get rest.

When I opened my eyes that evening, Érik was still besides me. His face was the first thing appeared before my eyes. I wished this would become the constant from now on. I did not move but looked at him with all my attention. If this was my life, no end would be a bliss. But deep in my heart, I knew he would change. He would grow old, eventually. Wrinkles would climb upon his face; his skin would get loose; his hair would turn into grey and fall; his eyes would cease to shine; his voice would lose its strength; his hands would shake and lose their grip. He would wither like a falling flower. Would I still love him even so?

Looking at his perfect face, I wanted to mark it to eternity, to fit my desire. But oh how I loved him so, would I not wish him not to be condemned with me forever? Would I not pass the card to his hand?

I wanted to hold on tight to the face before me, no more no less, for I was in love with every part of him, no more no less. I looked at him every second for there would be a day I would no longer can. Every second, he changed; he became less than he had been. But with every second, my admiration for him grew a bit more.

His sleeping face was peaceful and calm. I imagined what he would look like under the sun. Perhaps the sunlight would soften his face; add creativity on his lashes; hit shadows on the bridge of his nose; polish his rosy lips. Slightly, his warm breath blew over my face. He was so alive. That was one thing I would never have. His liveliness, his warmth, his breath, his heartbeat, his temperature, his body, his body, his body…

Then he opened his eyes. For a moment, I thought I saw myself within them. He smiled. The angel smiled, "Evening." "Evening." "What's the plan tonight?" "Stay with you." He laughed, "Sure."

He got up, saying he was hungry. He asked about me while he was putting food into his mouth. I shook my head while my eyes followed him everywhere. He kneeled beside me, putting a piece of cheese in front of my nose. I frowned at it, which made him laugh again.

"You always locked your bedroom. What's in there?" He asked.

"I can show you, tonight, if you like."

He put the last piece of bread into his mouth and nodded.

I warned him of the mess before I opened the door. He asked for the broken window and I told him it was the piano. He pulled me near by the shoulder and kissed my hair. He was surprised by the emptiness of my room for I only had a coffin, a wardrobe, and a large box. He asked me if I sleep in a coffin and I said yes for that was a vampire thing. I told him that all my past were in that box and I was ready to show him. Then we sat in front of it, and I opened it, "These basically are my souvenirs from all these years."

He curiously looked inside, and picked up a silver coin, "Is this…?"

"Yes."

He examined the coin carefully. His thumb brushed over Augustus's head, somehow made it shiner. "I thought you used it to buy a field."

"Oh, I didn't spend it all. It was… cheaper. So I kept one. No one wanted it. Now to me, it is a remainder of the beginning."

He looked at me deeply and put the coin in my hand. Then a cup drew his attention. He did not touch it but rather pointed at it and looked back at me. "Is this the one people always talked about?"

"I don't know. It was from our last dinner. But I don't know about the crucifixion. I found it at the place we dined, as it had been supposed to be."

He nodded thoughtfully, then pointed a book beneath the cup. "Is it a book?"

"Diary."

He drew back his reaching hand on hear of this. I shrugged and suggested that it was okay. So he carefully pulled out of and opened it. Then he looked quite helplessly and speechlessly at the languages.

"It's Aramaic." I cannot help but laughing.

"How many languages do you speak?"

"I don't know. Loads of them." I shrugged again, "Some are getting rusty. Some are forgotten."

"How about this one?" He tapped on the edge.

"Never forgotten, and never will be."

He carefully put the diary right back to its place, though I noticed a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. He pulled out of a rectangle in shape wrapped in white cloth.

"Careful." I warned.

"What is it?" He held it in his hands, delicately.

"Go ahead, open it." I said, "But be careful."

His hands, from my way of seeing it, were rather too careful, which made me wanted to laugh. His eyes widened at the sight of it. It was a dagger. It used to be covered in blood, but I cleaned it. Now it was all rusty.

"That was basically the last time I ever did something. But it did not turn well, so I quit. I thought being a nobody was a better way of living."

"Was it painful?" His finger touched the blade. It had been blunted. It would not hurt anymore.

"Very. It was the first time I was out of control. I was wanted across the entire empire. I fled to Taruma, and decided to stay low since then. That's why I lost control the other day, again. I hadn't been stabbed for centuries. That was the second time. Somehow I would lose it once my body penetrated."

He wrapped up the dagger, put it back, then closed the box. "Would you lose it again if I penetrate you? Did you?" His hands were still on the box. His eyes lowered, though he turned his head to me, but he stared at the floor.

"No, I didn't. And I won't. Because I want to." I put my hand on his thigh, and kissed him from beneath. "You know what, I think we should get out of the country. We are wanted. You especially. Did you see the want post, newspaper?"

"Yes, I did."

"I'm so glad they didn't catch you yesterday. I was worried."

"I'm not that dumb."

"Says the man who got shot?"

"That was an accident." He gave me a blaming look, rather bitterly.

"So what do you say?"

"But you just got me a piano."

"I can get you a studio if you want. This place is a bit small for two."

"Yeah, that's true." He giggled, "So where do you suggest?"

"England? Do you speak English?"

"Yes. Why there?"

"I planned to move months ago. I already contacted a real estate agent there, just haven't decided which one to purchase. Perhaps we can get there first, then look for a place together."

"Sure. It sounds good."

"What do you say tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night?" He was surprised.

"I have all the legal documents necessary for me to enter and live in the country. I don't think it would be possible for you to go through that way. We have to leave without being noticed. To France, you will vanish."

"Sure. We'll leave tomorrow night." He stood up and dragged me out of the floor. "We'll bring your box, but not your coffin. That's not a proper place to sleep. I think we need to start packing your books if you want to make it tomorrow night."

Then we spent the rest of the night packing. We finally finished just before the dawn, and he asked me to sleep in his room for my window was still broken. He gave me the experience I had longed for, and I was thinking I would hook up with him for the rest of his life.


	5. Chapter 5 Across the Sea

**Chapter 5**

 **Across the Sea**

I watched Érik awaking as yesterday, just for that moment I seemed to see myself within his eyes. It had been centuries since I last saw my own face. He gave me that smile as bright as sunlight. It was the closet that I ever got near the sunlight since I reborn. He gave me an evening kiss before he left the bed. Watching him having the dinner was really a happy time. It was a moment I felt I came really close to human again. Deep down I wished this can be the constant, conquering time and change.

I told him that I have arranged everything when he was sleeping, and our coach would leave at 10 pm sharp from the graveyard gate while he was doing his daily cleaning. I thought coach would be a safer way for us considering that his face was on every newspaper and every alley.

I made a busy hunting early that evening, because for the next two days, I would not be able to get the opportunity. We left at 9.20 pm, bringing only two suitcases with us, one was my souvenir box the other was for clothes and daily necessities. I planned to have the rest of the stuff delivered after we settled down at our new place.

I had the coach ordered for us only, which cost me quite a fortune for it was to send us all the way to Calais, in which we were to take a private ship to Dover. The night was quiet, only the wind companied us. It took us a whole day to travel from Paris to Calais. The coach stopped three times for the coachman and horses needed rest. I cannot believe it was such a sunny day. Even though curtains were closed, and Érik carefully made sure there was no gap at all, strong sunlight penetrated the glasses and curtains and shone in the carriage. My skin started burning when the first light came in. so I hid myself under the seat. Érik used his cloak to cover the gap between the seat and the floor, and then he himself slipped under the seat for he thought his body would do more effective a work. I gradually fell asleep in his arms.

When I woke up in the evening, I saw him sitting on the floor, smiling at me. it was alright dark. When I was getting out of the seat, he said that we would soon reach the port. I asked him how he slept, and he answered that he hardly got any sleep because I huddled up in his shadow and he worried if fell asleep he would not be able to take care take control over his shadow. I felt really sorry about this and he comforted me that he can get some sleep tonight.

We arrived at the port in about one hour, and the ship I arranged had already waited for us. There was only one ship at the port at that hour for the main ferry had already departed. We were expected to reach Dover in four hours. I supposed it would be just enough time for us to get settled in a hotel. Érik was really tired for he fell asleep on my thigh. Whenever I looked at him, time flied. Thinking of the days ahead of us, I cannot hide the smile climbing upon my mouth.

When the ship finally reached Dover, I woke him up and told him that we were in England and he no longer need to worry. Then I settled him down in the hotel which I had already contacted through telegram while we were still in Paris. There was still a couple of hours before sun came out, and I used them to arrange for the next trip.

We were back on the trip that night. Thankfully, it was cloudy during the daytime, which made our trip more comfortable.

"What do I look like?" I asked when he was staring at me.

"You are gorgeous." He said and smiled. "Curly black hair down on your shoulder. How did you keep your look since you cannot see yourself in the mirror?"

"I don't need to. I don't change. I… always look the same."

"Oh, lucky you." He put his hand on my face and said, "Pale, and cold."

I pouted on hearing of this, which made him laugh even more.

"Blue eyes, sometimes turn into brown."

I was surprised.

He kept on going, "Funny mouth."

"Funny?!"

"Yes. Looked like you always have a smirk on the left corner of your mouth. Is it because of your teeth?" His fingers outlined my mouth and stopped at the place he referred to. He dropped a kiss on it. I kept myself still. He drew back and looked at me, "Not working." His thumb glided over it, "Just keep it still. It looks quite sexy."

We arrived in London late that night. The coach dropped us at the hotel. Although I booked two rooms, I went to stay in Érik's. I ordered a good meal for him, on compensation of this exhausting trip. My solicitor had documents sent to me later on, all the suitable places he recommended. Then we spent the rest of the evening looking them through, deciding which one to purchase. Érik was surprised at my wealth and I told him that my possessions did not match my real wealth. One important factor for me to choose a property was the safety. It had to be real low profile so that I can hide in plain sight. At last, we made our mind on a two-storey cottage in Queens Road.

I telegrammed my solicitor, and arranged an appointment on next day to finalise the business.

Two days later, we have had all documents signed, and we finally can move into our new home. I did not want myself sound I hated the hotel, but I did get sick of it because it was really inconvenient for us.

My agent called our new house gorgeous, and added that it was in a prime "Royals" location between East Sheen and Barnes. To me, this was a rather small house, with only two bedrooms, located in a remote street. We needed to walk down the street in order to get to the main road.

The house was built up with bricks, Flemish Brick bond, as per my agent. It was generally red in colour, but some exposed dark grey due to time because the house was built in the middle of this century. A slate roof with a chimney but no finials on the ridge. It was not ornate at all. A small front yard was surrounded by white fences. Doors and windows were white in colour as well. There were two large and one small six-paned vertical sliding sash windows. A tree in the front yard covered almost all windows so that I supposed day lighting was bad. The whole street was dominated by similar-looking cottages, which meant we can hardly draw any attention. We moved in late at night, making sure no one saw us.

Went in through the door, there was a corridor heading to stairs and the kitchen at the end. A reception room and a dining room on the right-hand side. Both dining room and kitchen led to the back yard. The first room was the reception room. There were two single coaches in the reception room, facing to a fireplace with a grate surrounded by marble. Two full wall bookshelves were on each side of the fireplace. The reception room was connected to the dining room with a wooden double door. A small round table was placed in the middle of the dining room, surrounded by two chairs. And a cupboard was at the corner. There was only a set of three candles on the table for the lighting was powered by gas. Érik was a bit disappointed at this, and I told him we can get as many candles as he wanted. I did not understand his obsession with candles, but they were beautiful under his hands. The kitchen, according to Érik, had everything he needed. The back yard was filled with grasses, looking like this house had been empty for quite some time. A small cabin was built up separately.

Stairs leading to the first floor was opposite to the dining room. We went upstairs, and the first room was bathroom. It contained a bathtub, a shower and hot and cold running water. It had a mirror too, and Érik said he needed it. I wondered how he managed it in my old place, and he said he felt it. That was hilarious, but I also apologised for never noticing that. Next to the stairs was a small bedroom, in which there was a double bed and a wardrobe. We agreed to turn it into Érik's studio so that we moved those stuffs to the back yard to make room for his piano.

At the end was a larger bedroom. In the middle of the room was a canopy, from which hung black brocaded curtains. Under the canopy was a king size double bed, covered with red bedding. A fireplace was beside it, above which hung a painting. A desk was in front of the window. And next to the desk was a full-wall wardrobe, delicately craved on the edges. What I cannot believe was the whole-body mirror, on the wardrobe's door. Érik was amazed at the sight that he cannot see me in the mirror. He had heard about it, but it was the first time he ever saw. I hated the mirror, but he found it rather amusing. On second thought, he agreed to cover up the mirror. We then carefully covered all windows, even though curtains were thick enough.

When we were finally lying on the bed, put off the curtain and the world left us.


	6. Chapter 6 New Life in London

**Chapter 6**

 **New Life in London**

On the next day, I arranged people to move the rest of my stuffs from Paris to London, and put the flat in Paris on sale. It was longer than I expected before I finally had all my books rearranged. During those days, we were quite occupied with the decoration of Érik's studio. I was surprised at his wide range of interests. He not only wanted a piano for composing, but also he was very talented at though a bit obsessed with artistic crafts. After we put a workstation in, the room suddenly looked very crowded.

For the most of the evening, we worked on discovering and developing Érik's ability on the vampire's side. Although to him, his ability was not born, after practising, he became quite good at it. His skill of using such an ability has improved day by day. After weeks of practice, he can easily climb up to the roof of our two-storey house, travel across our back yard in no time. On the other hand, he taught me how to use a sword, and a pistol. Even though I argued that I did not need them for I cannot be killed, he insisted. I had no choice but listened to him.

For the rest of the time, normally, when I lied on the sofa, reading, Érik worked on his crafts. He even made a small model according to my appearance. He said it looked almost exactly like me. He also drew pictures of me, claiming that it was for my good because in that way I would know what I looked like. I bought his words for I hardly remembered what I looked like after almost nineteen centuries. When he worked on his music, I put down books and just simply lied on the sofa, closed my eyes and indulged myself in it. I memorised every single note he wrote, though he did not know. I never touched the piano for in my heart, it was one thing that I thought I was not worthy. It was a treasure that only shone under his touch.

One night, when I was reading like always, Érik shew up in the reception room and sat on the floor besides me. I lifted my head from the book and asked him what happened. He hesitated, then he said he wanted to have more contact with people. I was confused and asked what he meant. He clarified that he missed his old days when his work was recognised. I realised that he needed more than my appreciation. His talents were too great to be buried unknown. He was a human, a complete man, a free man, not my capture, not my possession. I cannot keep him for my own forever.

He was worried to see my reaction. It was all over his face. I admitted I was disappointed to hear that since it meant he would have more and more to care about – his work, his fame. He would have the world and I only had him. But I said to him that I had his back no matter what his decision was, and I would contact my solicitor the next day to him a proper agent. He was surprised that I said yes so quick, but what can I say, I cannot bear him living in loneliness. I knew I could never be good enough to be his company.

He worried about his face, more or less. I came up with an idea that he remained a mystery, and let his agent do publicity. I also suggested him to make a full-face mask that he shall wear whenever he meet a person other than me, because it would be more convincing that he wanted to hide his true identity. I asked him what field he wanted to explore more, and he said maybe architecture. I was not surprised at all. To me, this was his profession, and arts were just his hobbies.

Next day, as I said, I contacted my solicitor, expressed my desire, and clarified the situation. He said although that was not his expertise, he would refer a good agent to us. One week later, Érik and I met his agent at our home. I claimed myself as Érik's patron, and Érik gave out some sketches as samples. Érik made himself a grey mask. He wore a cloak and hid under the hood. His agent looked uneasy, but he pretended he can accept it. I hoped he would. Nevertheless, he was indeed very professional and competent. In a few months, Érik's business went on the right track. And in about a year, his name started spreading out among local architects. Of course, he made it. To me, Érik can achieve anything.

Ever since Érik became occupied with his work, I lived back to my old life again. We still spent some time together, though, I found it hardly suit my nature. London was an interesting place. People enjoyed their colourful and vibrant nightlife, which gave me many opportunities. Especially, on those small dark streets, I always found lonely souls, on their own, or travelling in small groups. I loved the East End. It was swelled by immigrants from all over the world. It was filled with poverty and danger. When people got missing, no one gave a damn, which gave me a great advantage. Prostitutes were easily lured away, usually to the end of distant alley. No one cared about them. They had always been the victims. No matter how cruel the murder, how bloody the scene, they would not be scared away, for they cannot afford to. To those people, East End London was a hell, but to me, it was a paradise.

A couple of months passed, my claws have reached the entire area. The authority had no clue what had happened, of course. But sometimes, when I finished my feast and travelled through the alley, I felt a gaze from the darkness. At first, I did not pay any attention at all, for there were always homeless people living in street corners after all. It may come from them, to a man dressed quite decently. I always pretended I was a classy gentleman who was obsessed with prostitutes.

One day, when I was drinking from a fresh victim, I was shot from behind. I turned around, with blood flowing out of my mouth, and I saw an eccentric old man. He was well dressed – a navy blue sack coat, silver grey vest, plain white shirt, black "Teck" tie, and a pocket watch. He wore a pair of golden-bordered glasses, which made him look very well-educated and knowledgeable. This kind of man was not supposed to show up in a place like this. The bullet blasted inside of me. Pain, extreme pain stretched out through my entire body. When I tried to attack him, he put a few more bullets in my body. I was slowed down, and he got away very quickly. Those expanding bullets did not penetrate my body, instead, they stuck inside it, expanding and caused more tissue damage. I had to dig them out before the wounds can heal by themselves.

I did not know if this man followed me, or he just happened to be there. I was worried more about my clothes. It was soaked in blood. I cannot let Érik know. Therefore, I sneaked in the bedroom through window when he was so lost in sketching in his studio. I changed to my home dress, then hugged him from behind, pretending that I just got home and he was too focused to hear me. Érik knew clearly what I have been doing out there every night, though he did not approve explicitly, he did not say a word against it either.

The following couples of months passed quietly and smoothly. The odd man who shot me the other night did not show up again. I reckoned he was just in a wrong place at a wrong time. First building designed by Érik were close to its completion. He was invited to the inauguration. He kindly declined the invitation at first, but I thought he should attend, not only for the good of his business, but also deeply I felt he needed this. Under the persuasion of both his agent and me, Érik finally agreed. What hurt me most was that I cannot go with him. I excused myself for being occupied by personal affairs and requested his agent to attend the event together with Érik.

Although the inauguration was held in daytime, I managed to hide in the next building, though got slight sunburn, and observed the event. His agent introduced him to the public, and did most of the speech. I also had two guards companying him from the beginning to end, just in case, but it appeared that this movement drew extra attentions to Érik. People thought he must be famous and rich.

Érik got home, excited late that day. He briefed me the inauguration, and told me that he was approached by the city council, asking him to help with a museum, and potentially, further partnership. I was happy for him. Such a genius!

His emerald eyes were lit up by the happiness of the mind beneath. His face was brightened by the smile of joy. There was a charm about it, arising from some feeling within, that appeared to indicate a brighter realm. Never had him been so glamourous, much more attractive than ever. And I cannot help but losing myself in his radiance. I thought I could live upon his happiness forever.

When I thought that days would go on and on like this, with Érik putting effort into his work, and I feeding on my desire, something was doomed to happen. It was that old man again. This time, again, he attacked me at my most vulnerable moment. When I indulged myself into the thrill of blood, I tended to ignore surroundings. He rushed out from nowhere, shot me again, and stabbed a wooden stake into my heart. That was a pain I never felt before. And the flesh near the stake even burnt. I knew then, I somehow became his target. He wanted me dead. He held a big cross in front of him, like it was supposed to ward me off and protect him. I pulled out of the stake, threw it on the ground and grabbed his hand. He certainly scared like hell. He looked like he saw a ghost. He stabbed the cross to me again. And this time, my skin that touched the cross got burnt and smoked. My wound on the heart had already healed, so that I had enough strength to snap away the cross. When I was about to grab his neck, he suddenly poured a glass of liquid on my head. I did not know what that liquid was, but my face burnt like in vitriol. I cannot see. My skin and flesh started melting, then the liquid went into my skull, and started to corrode the bones. My hand still grabbed him firmly, and I wanted to make him suffer too. But he escaped from me.

I fell upon my knees for the pain was intolerable. After a long time, the corrosion finally stopped. I lied on the ground, waiting myself to be completely healed. I was thinking, I should be more alerted. I cannot let the desire take control over my senses. I even thought about chasing after that man but so far, I had no clue about him, except he did a large amount of research about me. He knew how to hurt me the most. Did he know about Érik too? I was thinking what would Érik think, say and do if he knew. Should I keep him from it or should I warn him? In the end, I decided not to say a word to Érik.

On the next day, I arranged a full-time bodyguard for Érik no matter when he went out. He refused at first, but I argued that since he has been gaining quite a reputation, it was for his safety. I cared about his safety more than mine. He accepted it at last, though I felt his reluctance.

The following couple of weeks, I became more careful than ever, not leaving any traces of where I came and where I went, especially when I was close to home enough. I asked Érik implicitly if he noticed anything unusual, such as someone spying on him, and he said he did not notice such a thing. He was very suspicious of my meaning. I tried to assure him, but he got very upset about me going out at night for so long. I just had to say I had no other choice, and I tried my best to shorten my time out.


	7. Chapter 7 Can I Die?

**Chapter 7**

 **Can I die?**

One night, when I travelled through a silent and deserted alley, I saw the same old man appearing before me. When I walked towards him, his figure remained unchanged. This time, he did not look scared at all, calm instead. I pointed out a finger before me, and reached a solid, flat surface. It was a mirror. The glass cracked and fell. And then I realised I was trapped in a cage. Next second, he impaled me with a steel stick that had a spear head. Then more came from different angles. I was sure one of them penetrated through my heart. Those sticks fastened me in the cage. I cannot move. They then locked the cage, put it into a cargo, and carried it away.

Nothing else but darkness. Pain crawled all over my body. Blood dripped, but soon stopped, or I would pass out. So there I was, completely conscious, and every bump on the road caused throes in every wound. I did not know where they were going to take me, and all I knew was that I had no way to escape. I cannot believe I was beaten by a mirror. No reflection, my biggest weakness.

They seemed travelled a long way, and finally they put the cage down. Then they all left. There was no sound at all. I alone was deserted. I thought this might be my chance to escape. I tried, but sticks came from every angle, and they all linked to the cage. There was no gap. I was so frustrated. I did not know how was I supposed to escape. Was he going to chain me like this forever? If so, then that was going to be forever.

Time passed, then I heard people coming. Suddenly, the cargo was opened, sunlight shone upon me from everywhere. Subconsciously, I shut my eyes to block this sunlight, but my body had nowhere to hide. At first, my skin itched. Then it started burning and peeling off, which made my flesh exposed to the sun. Without the protection from the skin, my flesh started burning too. My blood sizzled. I saw the colour of my flesh turned from light to dark. Water evaporated from my body, then my body became withered. No matter what my body became, my mind was still conscious. It tortured me, every nerve, for every second.

"What are you?!" The old man walked in front of me, stared at me and asked.

"What do you want?!" I stared back, fiercely, using up every strength that left within me not to scream out. My face, probably only a skull left, must look very scary.

"You will be eradicated. You creatures don't belong to this world."

"I can't die!" I almost screamed the words out, drove by the constant, violent pain. The sunlight had gnawed my flesh, bit by bit. But with every bit I lost, I self-generated again. I knew this could last forever.

He stunned at my word, as well as the sight, and retreated. He certainly noticed the unchanged. "No, no. There must be a way." He shook his head, and walked away.

"Where are you going?! Come back!" I was furious. But they were all gone. I again, was left alone under this constant torment.

I thought about Érik. What was his reaction when I did not go back home? Is he searching for me? If so, would that bring him danger? No, I don't want him to be in danger. Please, Érik, don't look for me. I must get out of here.

A group of people came back, each holding a torch. Then the old man directed them to put torches at my feet. In no time, fire climbed up my body, up to my hair. This added extra pain to the existing intolerable level. I cannot help but struggling, but it only tore the wounds caused by sticks. Then I learnt to stop and keep still. I can see nothing but flames. The fire went on and on, even after the sunset. I knew this did not work, but they did not want to believe it. They kept adding new woods, just to keep the fire on.

Later that night, I heard them whispering about finding a new way. The old man ordered to leave me like this, and then they all leave. The fire went on all night. It tortured me on the edge of passing out. Then it finally started fading out. Just when I was re-generating new tissues, there came the sunrise, followed by a new turn of scorching. Is this the endless hell I am living?

The old man showed up at noon, followed by a group of people with all kinds of weapons. One of them, who was holding a broadsword, opened the cage behind me. He put the broadsword on my neck, and then tried to chop my head. What happened next scared the hell out of everyone. When the blade moved from the back of my neck to the front, the parts just had been cut through went back together and healed completely.

"You are doing everything in vain!" I shouted, staring firmly and furiously at the old man's eyes. "You don't understand! I can't die! It's LORD's will! You can't go against it!"

They all fled out. No one listened to me.

The sun went down and came out again, and again. I lost count. No one came. Not even a sound. I was weak. I felt dizzy. I started wondering, if this goes on long enough, could I really die. Is this the suffering I must live before the freedom?

One day, the old man came back again. I shouted at him and told him that this was all in vain. He told me to shut up for he had already thought of a way. I wondered what could that be. Then I saw a group of people moved in a machine. They started to put tube into my artery, through my neck, my limbs and my body. I then knew what was the way he talked about. He wanted to draw out my blood.

The machine started working. Blood was draining out from me, together with my strength. My head was dizzy. My eyes became blurred. And I heard echoing inside my ears. The world was spinning before me. My eyelids were extreme heavy, and I finally closed my eyes. Then at the dark inner side of my eyelids, there was Érik, bending over his desk, sketching. Oh, Érik, I will never see you again. What would your life be without me? I hope, from bottom of my heart, it would be a happy one. May you find happiness in your life. I'm afraid I will have to break my oath. I have failed to stay with you for the rest of your life. Then, it was blackout.

Senses were coming to me. I was still too tired to open my eyes. But I felt blood running in my body, and more were coming. My body absorbed the blood like crazy. Every nerve, every muscle became excited. They starved for too long. Under their effort, blood ran through my entire body very quickly. I had enough strength and opened my eyes. I craved for more blood. I would take the first person I see. I was in the state of a frantic bloodthirsty animal. I have prepared my teeth. I sat up suddenly, and then I saw Érik. Blood was coming down from his hand and dropping onto me. I startled him. Although the lust for blood was extremely strong, I clenched my fists and teeth, trying my best to fight it back.

"It's okay. Take it. You need blood." Érik put his wrist in my mouth, and I drank it ravenously, but just a few small sips, then I pushed him away, holding my desire back. I worried I may kill him. "How did you find me?"

"Not now. We need to get you out of here."

"There was this odd old man." I recalled, all those tortures and how he wanted me dead.

"Van Helsing. Abraham Van Helsing. He is a vampire hunter."

"I'll have to kill him." I was furious. I wanted him to pay.

"No. It's too dangerous." Érik grabbed my shoulder and tried to calm me down.

"He will haunt me till he's dead! It's either him or me!" I shouted agitatedly. I couldn't calm down. Not after all that Van Helsing put me through.

Érik kept silent for a while before he nodded. "Okay. It's night. He is sleeping. I'll lead you to him. But be quiet."

"Where am I?" I looked around, but there was only a coffin in the room, filled with leeches. I knew then how Van Helsing kept drawing out of my blood.

'You are in his cellar. He double-locked it." Érik walked towards the iron gate and gestured me to follow up. The lock was picked by him. There was another door outside, and was also opened by Érik.

We went up silently. There was no one in the drawing room. "This way." Érik guided me, "He lived alone. I spied on him the whole day. I got in till he went to sleep."

We went into Van Helsing's room. He was sound asleep. Crosses hang over walls, and he even was holding a cross when he slept. I rushed over and bit his neck. My desire for almost drove crazy. The cross touched my skin, and burnt a hole on it, but I did not care for it was nothing compared with what he made me suffer.

He was awakened when I touched his neck, but it was too late. I drained every single blood out of him. I was filled with rage. I wanted to take my revenge, even after his death. I tore him into pieces with my hands. I felt so alive, but I wanted more blood. I rushed out of the window to search for more.

After, I did not know how many, victims lied dead, I finally calmed down and stopped. Then I saw Érik was waiting aside. I walked to him, rather restlessly. I did not know what to say to him. I had been lying bloodlessly for too long. I needed enough blood to come back.

He said nothing, but walked towards me and hugged me. "I miss you so much." He whispered besides my ears.

I held him in my arms. "I thought I would never see you again." It felt so good to hold him again. "Where are we?"

"Essex."

"How did you find me?" I asked on the way home.

"The smell of your blood. It was too special to forget."

"Tell me what happened."

"You didn't come home. So I went looking for you. I knew you were in trouble, but I had no clue where you might have been. So I used what you taught me, searching for the smell. But you know, my sense of smell is not as good as yours. So I searched every area of London, and finally found a weak smell in Whitechapel. But it was your blood stain. So I traced it, but it disappeared in the middle of nowhere. So I then searched every possible area, and only when I came close to Essex, I smelt you again. But I only found a barrel. And I saw Van Helsing using it to do experiments. I knew you were nearby. I spied on him the whole day, and sneaked in when he went to bed. I can't believe what he did to you." His fingers rubbed my palm, and started trembling.

"How long had you been searching for me?"

"About a month. I should have known. How could I not have known where you had been doing? I could have saved you sooner. I should have paid more attention to you. It's my fault. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He held me closely. His head buried on my shoulder, and I felt him shaking in my arms.

"Hey… It's okay now. You saved me." I put my arm around his back, and kissed his hair. "I'm back. You have found me."

"What did he do to you?" He shook even harder, and choked.

"It doesn't matter now. We are back together again."

"I'll never leave you again." He started calming down, but still held me closely.

"You won't." I gently pulled him away and kissed him. "I'll always be with you."

He kissed back, "I'm so glad you are here."

"Can I be on top tonight?"

"Sure." And he smiled.

"Let's go home."


	8. Chapter 8 Rehab

**Chapter 8**

 **Rehab**

I woke up in the comfortable bed, and the first thing I saw was Érik's tender gaze. After my part from him, I knew I would do anything to compensate him, to exchange a forever with him. He looked as if he was deep in thought. He gave me a smile when he saw me awaken, but that smile, I can tell, was filled with worry.

"How are you?" asked I.

"It's good to have you back." His hand gently touched my face.

"It's good to be back." I pulled his hand in front of me and kissed it. We held each other's hand and looked at each other's eyes. The room was filled with harmonious silence.

Then he moved himself closer to me. His forehead held against mine. "Dracula." I felt his warm breath brushed over my face.

"Hmm?" I loved how he called my name. Those three syllables swirled in that low rumble of his voice. It seemed he called out of whole world's tenderness and love. It wrapped around me, reverberated through my body and purged my mind.

"Do you really need blood?" His voice, always gave his true feelings away. This time, it was bitterness, worry and plead. This question put in shame. It rose up my guilt, the truth I have been trying to avoid since my captivity. It was my uncontrollable desire for blood that led me to it. That desire was an abyss that can never be satisfied.

I did not know how to answer this question. Or maybe I did, and it was just I did not want to face myself. I was afraid to admit my dark side. But his eyes, were pleading me to be honest to him as well as be honest to myself. How could I tell him that I have gave upon myself a way long time ago? I had no purpose on this earth. I had nothing to live for. Therefore, I let my desire chain me and control me. It seemed every day was for it, and only in this way would time go a bit faster. However, things have changed now. He gave me my life a meaning. I cannot live like a dead man walking anymore. I wanted to live a normal life with him. I held his face in my hand and pulled him even closer till our mouths almost touch. "I will quit it for you. But I need your help. I'm addicted to it too much."

"Of course, I'll always have your back." His mouth spread out in a relieved smile. Then he dropped a long, soft kiss on my mouth.

"What should I do?"

"I don't know. Let's find it out together. What is it that blood meant to you?"

This question made me very uncomfortable. Deep inside I knew the answer, but it was so hard to let out my vulnerability.

He saw my hesitation and my bitterness. "Hey, it's okay. I accepted who you are, and no matter what, I'll always accept you." He put his hand on the back of my hand, and I turned my hand to hold his in mine. How he always knew me!

"It's one thing that controls me. My body can survive without it, but my mind can't. It's a mental problem."

"Like drugs?"

"Like drugs."

He grabbed my hands firmly. "Don't worry. It's going to be a long process, but I'll walk you through it. Let's do it slowly. One small step at a time. Try stay at home tonight. Can you do that?"

"Yes, I can." I nodded.

Érik stayed with me that night. He taught me how to draw, for he thought I might as well use some distractions. I asked him about his work. He said he pushed away most of them and he wanted to spend more time with me.

The first week past quietly. I thought about blood only once. But the second week went a bit tougher. My mind wandered more and more often, and I missed the taste of blood, and the feel of it running down my throat. Every time I fought it back with the thought of Érik. And we tried to find more distractions. We even went to the British Museum a couple of times. It threw me back to my old days. I spent most of the time filling Érik in history, the well-known and unknown, the widely-acknowledged myths and buried truths, the public events and my personal affairs. He was surprised that I had kept up with current events, and I said they had always been my interests. The third week was really tough. Blood went into my head constantly. Sometimes I can even see it. Érik had to use sex to divert my attention. But this approach only worked a couple of times.

One day, I needed blood so bad, and I thought only this time, just one time. I broke out through window but Érik found out immediately. He had been following me closely these days for my mental state was not right. He caught me on the street.

"Érik, I need blood! Please, just this one time." I pleaded.

"No. Dracula, you don't need it. It's just in your mind. There is no one time saying. All your efforts so far will be in vain." He pressed me against the wall and did not let me go.

I fought him. My desire had gone too out of control. I thought it must had driven me mad, if it hadn't, it would, very soon. My mind was filled with blood and I thought of nothing else.

"Don't you want to live a normal life?! How can you if you are like this?!"

"I don't care! I was made for this! There is no life for me! No place accepts me! No one! Why do you?!" I shouted at him. I tried to escape from him, but his grip was too strong. He became furious, threw me at the ground, and punched my face. When I was about to push him away, I saw a brick coming at me, then the next thing I remembered was that I woke up and the ceiling of our house appeared before my eyes. Then I found myself bound on a table. Érik was standing beside.

"What are you doing?! Let go of me!" I shouted again, and tried to escape. But I was strapped from head to feet, fasten on the table. The handcuffs hurt my wrists so much as I struggled. I smelt a sense of blood.

"Stop, Dracula. You are hurting yourself." Érik grabbed my arms and restrained my movement. He put his body weight on me so that all my strength was in vain.

I was on the edge of a mental breakdown. I felt thousands of hundreds of ants crawling on my body. My body started shaking, either under my mental collapse or under my physical exhaustion due to my struggle. I did not know. I shouted and screamed, words that did not compose a sentence. They were mixed with different languages. I did not know what message I wanted to convey. I simply wanted to cry my heart out. They were the ultimate weapon of my deepest feeling. Suddenly, Érik loosed my hands, and I started struggling again. Then I felt a sting on my neck. I started losing my eyesight, and my head went dizzy. I can no longer hold myself up and fell asleep.

When I woke up again, I was still bound on the table. My head were buzzing. It ached like hell. And it took me a while for my eyes to focus. My muscle was sour, and these straps made me very physically uncomfortable. Fortunately, my senses came back to me, though the desire for blood was still hovering over my head. I shook my head, trying to shake the thought off.

"Are you alright?" Came Érik's soft voice, then his caring face. He put his hand on my forehead, but my never changed body temperature told him nothing. "Tell me, how are you feeling?"

"No, I don't feel good. My muscle's sour. Could you untie me?"

"Are you still striving for blood?" Érik did not move but looked at me suspiciously.

"Yes." I was so frustrated, but I had to be honest to him as well as myself, for after my senses came back, I was clear again about what it was that I was after, and all my efforts in the last couple of weeks were for. "Just the straps on my chest and my legs. Keep the rest still. My legs are numb."

Érik's facial expression was complicated. It was a mix of doubt, suspicion and hurt. He bit his lips while hesitating. Then he untied my trunk and my legs, just left one on my waist. He half-sat on the table, and massaged my legs.

"How long it passed?" Asked I.

"Three days. You woke up once, shouting in some strange languages. I had to put you in sedation again. You don't remember?"

"No." I shook my head. My head was still heavy, and I can hardly move my limbs, not because they were bound, but because they were too heavy to move. I was so frustrated at my progress. I knew my consciousness now was only temporary. It was only a matter of time before I lost myself again. I was in despair that Érik saw my darkest side, in my most vulnerable state. Most importantly, I had no idea how long this would last. It seemed that this process tortured him as it tortured me. He looked withered. Tiredness bestrewed his face. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Yes. After I sedated you."

"Look, Érik. Will you clear out the cabinet?"

"Why?"

"I…" I did not know how to put it. This was the suffering that I, and I alone should bear. "I think I should stay there, alone. You should lock me in there, and nail the window."

"No. I said I would walk you through this, and I will. You don't have to face this alone." He bent over me, and put his hands on my shoulders.

"I was so tired, being bound like this. Érik, please, just leave me in the cabinet."

His lips twitched. "You might hurt yourself."

"I'll try not to. But I'll be okay. Remember? I need time, Érik. If you give me time."

"Okay. I'll do whatever you say." He left a long, deep kiss on my forehead before he went to clear the cabinet.

It took him a long before he came back. I felt much better then. I had started moving my limbs little by little.

"Are you alright now?" Asked Érik. "Is it safe if I untie you?"

"I think so." I nodded. "I don't feel too thirsty for blood right now."

He then carefully uncuffed me.

When I walked in the cabinet, I found that Érik had carefully covered the window from outside and nailed the frames. Walls, floor and even ceiling were covered with mattresses. "What is this?"

"In case you hurt yourself."

"Fine. But keep in mind, do not open the door, no matter what. Even if I beg you. You'll have to be stronger than I am. I need you."

"Sure. I'll be outside. Call me if you need me."

"I will."

We kissed each other before I pushed him away and shut the door behind me. Then I heard him locking the door.

I was filled with more sadness than any other feelings. I sat against the wall, wondering if Érik was doing the same on the other side. Hours and hours had been passed and I remained conscious. Off and on, the thought of blood broke into my head and I forced it out. Most of time, I was just sitting there quietly, thinking of nothing. I wanted to call Érik, talk to him. I wanted to listen to his voice. It had always comforted me. But I knew if I did, it would bring both of us more harm than good. I wished to fight this battle alone.

I had been stayed in a relatively stable and calm state for quite a couple of days. When the hunger was too unbearable, I pressed my head against the wall really hard, for as I pushed myself to the wall, I hoped I could push the desire out of my head. Or I punched the wall as I fought the devil inside. It worked a couple of times, but soon lost its efficiency.

An unprecedented hunger came unexpectedly. I threw myself at walls, hoping the physical pain could offset the inner pain, but I was wrong. My entrails were burning, swelling, bouncing inside of me like they were trying to burst out of my body. I tore my clothes, and my skin and flesh, hoping to release them. But the pain did not stop it, rather stimulated it. My blood sped due to my craziness. I tried to shout the devil out, but it just wouldn't leave me. The hunger devoured and consumed me, and drove me insane. I tore the mattresses from the wall, and ripped them into pieces. This devil drove me crawling on the walls and the ceiling. No matter how I fought myself, I just simply cannot kick it out of my body. I almost completely handed myself over, when my last vestige of senses dragged me and pulled me back off the cliff.

I fell on the floor, lied on side and curled up. My arms embraced myself and I cannot stop shaking, for I felt my body had been emptied. I heard a voice calling my name, but I was too tired to answer. Then a pair of warm hands picked me up and held me against a warm, solid chest.

"Shh… Shh… It's alright now. You beat it. You won."

Although with his caress, I still trembled like a leaf. "Don't… don't leave me alone." I used up all my strength, but I still hardly heard myself. Even my voice trembled, too.

"I won't. I never left you. I'm right here."

I felt I was held even closer. In his arms, my mind started becoming clearer and clearer. Then I finally stopped shaking, and came back to myself again. I found my clothes had been torn into pieces. They can hardly hang upon me. Claw prints spread all over the walls and the ceiling. I even saw some blood stain. Cotton fibre filled up the room. Lots were on me, too. Érik was picking them from my hair.

"Hey. Welcome back."

I was exhausted. Just when I saw his face clearly, my eyelids became so heavy that I had to shut my eyes again.

I woke up in his arms, still, as I remembered how I went to sleep. "Hey."

"Hey." He smiled at me, though he looked very tired. "How do you feel?"

"Better now. But I think I need more time."

"Take as long as you need. I know it's not easy."

"Thank you, for being here."

"You're welcome."

"You need rest, Érik. I'm much better now." I sat up, and put my hands on his thigh.

"You sure?"

"Yes. I am sure. I'll stay here. Promise me you'll sleep. Don't worry about me. I figure it would be days before the next strike."

"How could I not worry? You almost tore the cabinet apart." Although he was complaining, he was relieved at my current state.

"Érik. Promise."

"Okay. I promise."

During the following couple of months, we talked sometimes, when I was fully conscious. Although there was a wall between us, I felt the communication was far deeper than ever. But for the most of time, I fought against my desire. When the hunger was far stronger, I screamed and shouted, hit and hurt, twitched and trembled, but I never lost my senses, like the one before. Érik always asked about me when my moaning was too loud. I always forbade him to come in. I told him I was about to see the light, and I needed to win this of my own accord. I knew he stayed on the other side of the wall with me, always. And that was a great motive and relief for me.

As days went by, the desire came to me on a less and less frequently basis. I began to learn to control it without too much dramatic screaming. Sometimes, I did not think of blood at all for days. I was not too sure how to judge whether I was completely clean or not. I doubted if I can get over the thought of blood, ever. Or maybe I can say the victory is mine when I can see it as a normal state I get used to, and make fun of it easily.

After I felt like I can kick of the thought easily, I decided to test myself further. I asked Érik to get me some blood to see my reaction.

"What kind of blood? Animas'?"

"No, no. They make me sick. Human blood."

"But, where do I get human blood? What about my blood?"

"No. It never worked, because it mixed with mine."

"Okay. I'll see what I can do. But I'll have to leave you for a long time. Is it okay?"

"Sure."

It was quite a long time before Érik came back. I smelt the blood from afar, and it turned me on again. "Don't come in here. Put it away."

"Okay."

"You need to tie me up." Said I, when Érik came back.

"Why?"

"I don't know if I can control myself."

He came in with ropes in his hands. He tied my hands and bound the rest of the rope to the window frame.

"Where did you get the blood?"

"Hospital. Are you sure?"

"Yes." I nodded. "Bring it just at the door first. You know what to do if things get out of control."

Érik went back in a couple of minutes. He stood at the door, and carefully examined my reaction. The smell and scene of blood broke me from inside again. I was more vulnerable to it than I thought. The rope was tensioned tightly. Half of me said to go for it, yet the other half warned me not to. They fought each other inside of me and I was almost torn apart. I turned away to get it out of my sight, hopefully out of my mind. I clenched my teeth as I wanted to bite something so badly. My knuckles were aching as I clutched the rope tightly. The reasoning side of me started gaining the upper hand of the battle. I witnessed it prevailing, and finally won.

I turned around and leaned against the wall. I was tired, but I felt more relieved. Érik put down the blood bag, and came over.

"Are you all good now?" His fingers brushed through my hair.

"Yeah. I think so."

"What is blood to you now?"

"I still smell it, but I think I can control myself now."

"Shall I release you?" He put his hands on the rope.

"Yeah. I think so." I nodded. I felt like I became completely normal again. And this time, it was the normal normality.

He untied me and I rubbed my painful wrists. "I think we might as well leave the room as it is now, just in case. And, get rid of the blood. The last thing I need is temptation."

He did as I said. When I walked out of the cabinet, I realised that Érik almost moved to the yard. I helped him move his workstation back.

He was so happy. So was I.


	9. Chapter 9 Adieu

**Chapter 9**

 **Adieu**

Days had passed plainly since my successful rehab. The world entered into a new century, then Queen Victoria passed away. Érik picked up his work, but he spent much less time on it. Instead he devoted many time and attention to me as he promised. I, on the other hand, changed my timetable to suit normal human – sleep at night, though at first, I found it hard to adjust, I then recognised its many benefits. For instance, since I no longer took on blood, there was no need to go out at night, long lonely nights became very boring. Érik thought I may find meeting people at home would be a good pastime. However, I really cannot stand with socialising.

He spent a lot of time teaching me drawing, and after I became quite good at it, he assigned part of his work to me. As a result, both of us were quite occupied during the day. I never realised drawing could be so interesting. As Érik became more productive with my help, he suggested me trying new more stuff. I had no clue what he was talking about, but I said yes almost subconsciously. Then I knew what he meant, for one night, he took me to the Opera House.

This was a sign that he was over his past. Because of the identity we together built for him, he can sit in a comfortable seat like everyone else, but I found it very weird going out with him when he was wearing a mask.

At that time, many foreigners flowed into London, as there was a war going on in continental Europe. Britain took its part in it as well, but as London had become the world's financial capital, the country somehow successfully managed the economics of the war. Its economy even grew during the war period. And hence, for British upper class, living quality did not change much.

One day, Érik looked gloomy, so I asked him what was going on. He was reluctant to say at first, but I believed communication and thorough understanding was the key in our relationship, especially we had so many years ahead of us. Then I finally got to knew that it was about Christine. Érik heard of the news about her death, which took months to travel into his ears.

I knew what Christine meant to him, and I did not blame him or envy her. Rather, I was grateful that she left him for me. I knew his wound was not yet completely healed for he rarely played piano since and he never composed again. As far as I was concerned, a trip back to where it all happened would be an ideal journey for his mind. Moreover, both of them deserved a proper goodbye.

I told Érik what I thought exactly, and suggested that probably we should visit Paris when the war passed, besides, he needed time to finish his current project before we started off. He agreed. In the next few months, he buried in his work again, crazier than ever. It seemed to me that he used work to numb him.

In November 1918, the war finished, and Érik's project was close to an end. I suggested that we should spend a couple of months staying on the continent, for I thought a nice holiday was exactly what he needed at the moment. Besides Paris, I wanted to look at his hometown, probably then visit some other cities with him. I doubted whether he ever took a rest from his work. If he ever before the news, he certainly did not since. This might be just the perfect time to do so. I told him that maybe he could do a self-project during this time. Different architecture styles might be an inspiration for him, for decades had passed, and places must have changed significantly from what he remembered.

Considering that the last time we left, he was a wanted man, I dared not to be reckless this time. Moreover, the war just passed was the largest ever in history, and even I had never seen a one like this before. I arranged this trip very carefully. I called an agent in Paris, pretending we were taking refuge in London and were planning to go back to Paris. The post-war period was messy. Records were missing, which gave us a good opportunity to travel back without too much a fuss. I rented a flat in advance since I dared not to risk him being seen by anyone. Although decades passed, he still looked the same. At last, months later, our journey to where it all started finally began.

Paris had changed a lot, not only the street layout, but also the general atmosphere. It somehow seemed to me the city was filled with despair. Érik did not want me to go with him. He said he needed time to be alone. For most of time, he was out. I was worried about him, for his mental health as well as his safety. I had thought about following him, but on a second thought, I decided to stay back. He would be very angry at me if he found out.

One day, I heard of a news that there would be an auction at the Opera Populaire. Érik did not come home that night. I worried that he might do something crazy, so I decided to go looking for him. My first stop was the Opera House. I wanted to take the secret tunnel for I thought Érik might be in the cellar, but it was blocked. So I had to take a detour and entered through the main entrance.

I can tell that it has long been deserted, since our departure, perhaps. It looked like a dark wasteland. I perceived a scent of old ash. A thick layer of dust on everything. Spiders took corners as their nest, on seats, on railings. There were traces of human. Seats were put aside disorderly, to clear out a space. The whole house was messy. Perhaps the only place that was carefully ordered was the stage. Lots of stuff, tagged and piled up on the stage. That must be the preparation for the auction, I suppose.

I travelled through the backstage, and when I used Christine's dressing room to enter into the cellar, I found Érik sitting beside the mirror. He was in the dark, so I only noticed him when I came close. He saw me first. I was flustered when I saw him staring at me. I just opened my mouth to apologise when he reached out his hand and gestured me to sit with him. I sat down beside him quietly. He looked weary. His clothes were dusty.

The room was emptier than I remembered. Dust particles were dancing in the moonlight beam. There was no sign of life, only dead silence and smell of decay. It seemed to me, even those objects perished, though they never lived. I was used to death for I had seen so many of them. But this was new to him. This, perhaps, was the first time death came near to him, to the one that was dearest to him.

Over the centuries, I learnt not to get attached to anything. Nothing can challenge time and time always wins. Then I looked at him, and I realised that my principle has been violated. I had no clue what would I feel if I lost him, but I did not want to lose him at that moment. I put his hand in mine, hoping to comfort him. Then I felt a ring in his hand. I stiffened at the touch of it. At first I was surprised, then the memory came back to me, when I saw in him the scene that Christine gave back the ring. This must be the one. How did it never occur to me before? It was such an important object.

He must feel my stiffness. As I wanted to draw back my hand, he put strength on his fingers and implied me to stay. We then sat in darkness and silence for a long time, holding each other's hand. I was so worried about him, and I knew if I can, I would ask him a lot of questions, but that would only repel him. Thus, I held back my anxiety, waiting for him to open himself to me.

I felt him half-drawing back his hand, and his fingers playing with the ring. "I went back to my old place. There was no sign that I ever lived there before. They took out all my old stuff, I think. Only some remains from the fire were left. I spent a lot of time there, you know, in the past few days. Then I found this ring. It was left over, at the corner, but it shone through the ash. Those days, I don't know why, then appeared so vividly in front of my eyes. When I was there, though there was nothing there, I relived those days. I… I don't know what I ought to feel, but I felt nothing. I just wanted to stay there, to relive those days over and over again. It made me feel like that she's still alive. I can't believe she's gone."

His voice was calm, but was filled with sadness. I did not know what to say to comfort him. I was so immature with human's feeling. So I chose to give him a hug. I wanted him to know that I cared for him, but I did not want this to become a burden for him.

He stayed silently in my arms, but I felt his deep breaths. "Dracula."

"Hmm?"

He paused quite a while before continued. "I want to visit her for the last time. Can you come with me?"

"Sure."

We started off to the graveyard. He held my hand along the way. And when we passed by a garden, he went to pick up a rose. Christine's gravestone was surrounded by flowers, all sorts of flowers. Some were perished, while some were still fresh. I supposed they all came from Érik for he picked them all up and cleared the space after he put down the rose. I had no idea when he did it, but he plucked the thorns, and wrapped the ring on it with a black silk ribbon.

Without flowers' decoration, the grave seemed more desolated than ever. Leaves were rustling, wind was sighing, the rose was trembling. In this dismal darkness, that spot of red seemed so out of tune. It was the only thing alive amongst this deadly end. Érik caressed the headstone for the last time, and he murmured something in such a low voice that the words faded in the wind before it reached me. Then he turned his back, took my hand, and left.


End file.
